


Quaffles

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Charlie plan (and celebrate) their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lijahlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lijahlover/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

“I don’t care,” Harry says for what feels like the hundredth time.

Charlie wrinkles his nose and complains, “You’re making me do all the work.”

Harry shrugs guiltily. “I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know. I’ve only been to one wedding, and I honestly have no idea what the centerpieces were. It was nice, though—why don’t you owl Bill, and we’ll just do whatever he did?”

Charlie looks at Harry like’s deranged—a look Harry’s all too used to—and grumbles, “Are you mad? I don’t want the exact same wedding as my brother!”

Harry doesn’t have a brother, so he doesn’t exactly understand why not. But he loves Charlie, so he accepts it and moves on, looking out the restaurant window for inspiration.

It’s raining heavily, and the cascading beads of water blur the outside too much to offer much help. There’s a parked black car in front of the bookstore on the other side of the street, and only the rare person walks past, always sporting an umbrella. When Harry can’t think of anything to say, he reaches out and puts his hand over Charlie’s, trying to be reassuring.

Charlie smiles warmly, and Harry knows he isn’t really in trouble. Charlie’s too good-natured for that. They’re both uncultured men, anyway. Typical, jock-like men who spend more time on the pitch than on the ground, and neither of them are really built for wedding planning. But if they get a wedding planner, they have to explain to Ginny and Hermione why they won’t let them do it instead.

After a minute, Harry asks, “Can we make Quaffles the centerpieces?”

Charlie laughs so hard that he throws his head back, and he has to apologize and stifle it when the people at the next table glare at them. It’s a small, casual, intimate restaurant, with cheap wooden tables and servers that take too long to circulate, but they can’t afford much with a wedding on the way. Harry grins back at his boyfriend and waits for Charlie to shake his head. “My mom would _kill_ us.”

“It’s us?” Harry offers with a shrug. When nothing else comes to mind, he sighs and looks into Charlie’s eyes. He says, “Look, I’m sorry, I just don’t care what they are. I just want to marry you, and everything else is just... whatever.”

Charlie leans over to peck him on the lips, and Harry’s whole face lights up when they part. He doesn’t care if a few heads have turned. Their audience is lucky Charlie’s showing as much restraint as he is—they’ve been known to make out in public for several dozen minutes at a time (And they’ve been thrown out of more than one place for misconduct in a bathroom).

Because they’re running out of places they can use, Charlie settles back down in his seat. “Right, let’s just move on to the next thing.” He pulls a little notepad out of his leather jacket. Harry leans over the table on his elbows to get a better look at the messy, upside-down writing. “Flowers.”

“What do we need flowers for?” Harry asks.

Charlie shrugs. “The bouquet? That... neither of us will be holding... huh... fuck it, I’ll scratch it off.”

“Will Ginny kill us?”

Just then the server finally shows up, and Charlie says, “We’ll have one of everything—we’re sampling. You guys cater, right?”


	2. After

They Apparate hand-in-hand out of the venue, straight into the living room of their apartment. Here, Harry is fully prepared to slump down on the couch, but he doesn’t get the opportunity.

Charlie literally sweeps him off his feet, up into his new husband’s arms, and he’s promptly carried bride-style out of the living room. He yelps too late and throws his arms around Charlie’s neck, and Charlie grins broadly, kicking their slightly ajar bedroom door open.

He turns a bit awkwardly once he’s inside, and Harry helpfully reaches out to close it, as Charlie’s hands are full. “Thanks, babe.” Charlie kisses him on the cheek.

Harry mumbles, “You’re such a sap.” But he’s grinning.

He’s placed gently down on the bed, and Harry scoots automatically back into his pillows, thoroughly exhausted. Charlie’s used to training dragons, though, and it takes a lot more than a rowdy wedding to burn him out, even when it’s their wedding.

“Ughh,” Harry sighs, not even bothering to undress. “You’re gonna make me fuck, aren’t you?”

“Bingo, baby,” Charlie laughs, bending down to peck him. Harry rolls his eyes but takes it. “It’s our wedding night—we can’t not celebrate.”

“One,” Harry starts, “we’ve been celebrating all night. Two, you already thoroughly ravished me in the coat room—which was hell to explain to Ron and Hermione, by the way, seeing as how we missed our own cake cutting.”

“How’d they even do that without us?” Charlie muses whilst slipping off the bed. Harry doesn’t answer, partially because he doesn’t know, and partially because he’s watching Charlie. Charlie’s now slipping his dress robes off his shoulders, deliberately sensually. His hips start to sway as he slowly unbuttons the front of his dress shirt underneath, and Harry hikes up on his elbows to get a better look.

Charlie says he’s been a dragon tamer since leaving Hogwarts. Harry often suspects he spent some professional time in a club—he’s way too good at it this dancing to have not been. He looks absolutely delicious as he slowly peels off his shirt, rolling his hips the whole time. The creamy fabric slowly reveals Charlie’s tight pecs, his built six-pack, all his dark tattoos, and a sprinkling of red hair on his belly, dipping in below his pants. When the shirt is gone, he undoes his belt just as slowly, making Harry’s mouth water. So much for not sleeping. Charlie’s impossible to resist like this. His strong arms flex as he undoes his zipper, and he smirks at Harry before dropping his trousers.

Charlie didn’t wear underwear, the dog. Harry suspects it was mostly to torture him, and it worked. Harry got fondled under the head table all night, and their first kiss was less than innocent. Their first dance was worse. Harry married Charlie for a wealth of reasons, mainly a deep, intense connection, and love like he’s never felt before. But Charlie being the hottest man he’s ever seen certainly doesn’t hurt things.

Charlie puts a knee on the bed and one hand on it, the other around his already semi-hard cock. Harry licks his lips as he stares, unable to look away, as usual. “Are you really going to deny me on my wedding night?” Charlie purrs, and even though he wishes it wouldn’t, it makes Harry melt.

He mumbles thickly, “Maybe... maybe just one round... but I’m tired, so you’ll have to do the work.” And then he collapses lazily back down into the pillows, unable to believe he’s giving in again.

Charlie comically cheers, “Yes, score!” and crawls forward. Rather than waste the time neither of them have (because Charlie’s aroused and Harry’s tired) Charlie reaches into Harry’s pocket, withdrawing Harry’s wand. A quick flick and Harry’s dress robes are joining Charlie’s on the floor, and Charlie’s tossing the wand aside and pulling off Harry’s boxers. Harry lifts his legs to help, putting his hands under his pillow. When the boxers are off, Harry’s already a little hard too, because it’s impossible not to be when looking at Charlie. Charlie smiles winningly and runs his eyes up and down Harry’s body, before sighing happily, “You’re fucking gorgeous, Harry.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Harry laughs. He spreads his legs a little and lifts up his knees. “If you like this body so much, you better start fucking it, or else I might pass out on you.”

“How could you pass out on our wedding night?” Charlie mumbles incredulously, but he shuffles in between Harry’s legs, bending them back so that Harry’s knees wrap around his waist. “You’re supposed to be filled with love and excitement.”

“I was, until you already fucked it out of me, not to mention jerked me off in the bathroom during cocktail hour...” Harry grins as Charlie drapes over him—always his favourite position. There’s nothing like having eye-candy like Charlie Weasley on all fours above you. “...Now I’m just full of love and romance and contentment and... all that warm, fuzzy shit.”

“You’re the one that sucked me off in the bathroom during the reception, you little minx,” Charlie counters, and he leans down to trail kisses down the side of Harry’s face. Harry moans and arches up, his bare chest brushing over Charlie’s. He can feel Charlie’s hard cock against his stomach, and now that it’s so close, he can’t deny wanting it in him, even if he won’t say it. Or at least against him. He is tired, but damnit, Charlie’s so fucking hot, and rubbing together like this is waking him up...

Charlie plucks Harry’s glasses gently off his face, folds them, and places them down on the nightstand. Then he leans down for a hard kiss, which Harry’s more than happy to open for. As soon as Charlie’s in his mouth, it’s over; Harry kisses back like fire, tongues fighting. Harry’s arms slip out of the pillows to reach up for Charlie’s hair, fisting in the red locks. When Charlie pulls back, Harry kisses the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and his cheeks. Charlie’s freckles drive Harry wild. But then, Charlie’s _everything_ drives Harry wild. He can’t see each individual dot with his glasses off, but he knows where they all are. Charlie’s a handsome, undefined being like this, warm and strong. Harry could just kiss Charlie all day, if his cock didn’t demand more.

Charlie’s grinding them together hard enough to bruise, and Harry moans. He doesn’t even think he’ll last to penetration, and just as well. He could collapse at any moment, and Charlie’s embrace is far from helping. Charlie reaches between them to stroke Harry’s cock, pressed between their stomachs, and Harry reaches down too, grabbing Charlie’s. Charlie’s large and thick in his hand, impossibly warm and very hard. It’s dry, though, and Harry takes his hand back to spit on it, and then Charlie’s is in front of him, and Harry spits on that, too. They go back to stroking each other, and Harry moans into it, and Charlie kisses the side of his face, bodies flush together. “I love you so much,” Charlie murmurs, kissing the side of his face.

“Love you too,” Harry mumbles. He turns his head to press his forehead to Charlie’s, overwhelmed. “Loved your vows.”

“I know,” Charlie chuckles, “You cried.”

Harry breaks out in a smile, fist still moving. “You did, too.”

Charlie groans when Harry squeezes him and returns the favour quickly, making Harry gasp loudly. “Only because you were, and you know what that does to me. ...Fuck, Harry... so happy...”

“You have no idea.” Harry’s other hand is still in Charlie’s hair, playing with it, kneading it, and his elbow’s heavy atop Charlie’s shoulders, holding him down. “You just make me... ah... Charlie... just...” he doesn’t even have the words for it. Having Charlie touch him isn’t helping. His hips grind up into Charlie’s hand, and his head is a cloud.

“I’ll make love to you all morning,” Charlie promises. “You’re tired now, that’s okay. But I’ll make love to you all morning. Then we’ll go on the honeymoon and fly like crazy...” Charlie stops to moan. Harry can’t wait for that. He wants to get away so bad and have nothing but Charlie. Just the thought of Charlie makes him smile, and he can’t wait to have the pictures. He’s going to frame them and hang them all over the apartment. He doesn’t care if that’s cheesy or whatever. He’s never had family pictures. Now Charlie’s his family, and he’s going to plaster the walls with their love—with their first kiss, with their first dance, with them amongst all their friends, their groomsmen and their guests, and even Charlie’s inappropriate garter toss and Mrs. Weasley sobbing her way through a speech. Harry loves that they’ll all be moving, that every smile will be ever-changing, that he’ll get to see his hand in Charlie’s, trembling with emotion. Harry kisses Charlie now like his life depends on it, and it’s all he can do not to cry again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charlie mumbles, in between fervent, quick kisses, and in between panting, and he grinds them together as they pump each other. “You’re brave, and strong, and smart, and fun...”

“You’re sure you’re not describing yourself?” Harry laughs, breathing just as heavily. His heart feels like it’s going to come out of his chest. His veins have been pulsing too fast all day. Beaming, Harry moans, “I couldn’t wait to say yes to you,” and then, because he can’t help it, “I love you, I love you so much...”

“I love you more than anything,” Charlie grunts. The way he scrunches up his face lets Harry know he’s close, pumping so fast that it completely covers Harry’s own trembling.

But Harry comes first, with an unexpected gasp, and he arches hard into Charlie, clutching tight. His fist stills as he explodes, head lolling back and lashes fluttering. Charlie kisses him all over, and he absolutely comes undone, all over again, before collapsing wearily below, and Charlie finishes a second later, all over both their stomachs.

Charlie doesn’t roll off, and for once, Harry doesn’t make him. He’s a heavy blanket, but a warm one. Harry’s utterly exhausted and still mumbles, “Love you, Charlie,” before his eyes close.

“Love you, Harry.”

Charlie kisses him one last time, and Harry almost doesn’t want to sleep, now, because marrying Charlie is better than anything he could dream.


End file.
